


Panacea

by Mslollywillowes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Gingerpilot, M/M, Smut, That's it, hux fantasises about being fingerbanged by poe, that's the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mslollywillowes/pseuds/Mslollywillowes
Summary: Hux had never seen anyone handle an X-Wing with such flagrant disregard for safety and, quite frankly, basic physics before, and he was both utterly terrified by it and grudgingly fascinated – this sort of skill could be invaluable to the First Order. He would have contemplated the idea of attempting to recruit Dameron, but Hux couldn’t bear the idea of being in such repeated, close proximity to him on a daily basis, having to work alongside him – to long to be touched by him even as Hux’s every instinct alerted frantically that he couldn’t risk it, couldn’t allow himself to be compromised even further.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	Panacea

He was… _exhausted_.

Exhausted wasn’t actually the word for it. Hux couldn’t remember a time when he had felt at quite such a low ebb since the destruction of Starkiller, and the utterly compromising, debilitating, _humiliating_ impact of it was dragging on his mental and physical faculties in a way that he found almost overwhelming. Having to depend on Dameron to _rescue_ him had been just the icing on a particularly mortifying cake, like Hux was some sort of quivering cadet who had never so much as _looked_ at the controls of a starfighter in his life.

He kept thinking about Dameron’s hands on him.

Escaping from the ship had required a level of physical intimacy that Hux had been entirely uncomfortable with. The pilot had virtually had to embrace him in order to guarantee they didn’t become separated as they tore down chaotic corridors, dodging burning masonry as the ship fell apart beneath them. Hux had never seen anyone handle an X-Wing with such flagrant disregard for safety and, quite frankly, basic physics before, and he was both utterly terrified by it and grudgingly fascinated – this sort of skill could be invaluable to the First Order. He would have contemplated the idea of attempting to recruit Dameron, but Hux couldn’t bear the idea of being in such repeated, close proximity to him on a daily basis, having to work alongside him – to long to be touched by him even as Hux’s every instinct alerted frantically that he couldn’t risk it, couldn’t allow himself to be compromised even further.

The hotel Dameron had chosen was a dingy little dive that made Hux instantly feel as though he had dirt under his fingernails. Still, the bathtub looked vaguely clean, even if Hux worried he might get lockjaw from some of the rust around the edges. He felt almost indulgent as he drew himself a hot bath and submerged his aching, bone-chilled body in its depths. Great _stars_ , this was heaven, rust notwithstanding. He rinsed his hair and washed his face, wrinkling his nose and eschewing the grubby little bar of soap that lay in its tray on the side. Then he simply lay back in the tub, his eyes closed, feeling his muscles starting to relax.

He purposefully focused his mind on the task of getting back to the Order; with no means of contacting anyone, he would probably be forced to use public transport, the indignity of which was almost too much to contemplate. Still, it was a diverting topic that kept him preoccupied specifically away from the rather more unsettling subject of Dameron. Well, almost. Every now and then the invasive ghost of a memory of Dameron’s hands on him floated to the surface of his mind: touching his face, his shoulder, the warmth of his palm soaking through the fabric of Hux’s uniform as his hand pressed against his back. It was very much a physical memory, Hux’s skin responding with gooseflesh as he replayed the sensation, feeling the rosy pink buds of his nipples stiffening into hard, sensitive peaks where they were exposed to the air of the room. It was just because he was still cold, Hux told himself firmly, shifting in the bathtub a little so that the water lapped further up his chest, submerging his aching nipples. It wasn’t because he now couldn’t stop imagining Dameron’s fingers lightly coasting from Hux’s throat, lower across his chest, his thumb and forefinger finding an already taut nipple and pinching it just enough to make Hux mewl in pain-pleasure. Not at all. He was _not_ thinking about Dameron’s fingers being replaced by the other man’s mouth, warm and wet and clever, lapping and circling the pebbled areola, teasingly flicking at the hardened tip.

Oh _sweet stars_ , this was ridiculous. Hux abruptly sat up straight in the bathtub, furious with himself, because now the lazy half-hardness of his cock when he first got into the bath had blossomed into a full, proud erection that was peeking out of the water in a most undignified way. How utterly, utterly absurd, ridiculous, inexcusably pathetic – _lusting_ after Dameron like a fool with a crush. Hux felt almost offended by how absolutely, how nakedly his body was betraying him, and he crossly flung himself out of the bath, almost slipping on the wet floor, before gingerly wrapping himself in one of the mildewy towels the hotel offered and heading back into the bedroom – walking a little awkwardly because his erection was still jutting uncomfortably from between his legs.

He turned on the radio, searching for the classical music channel, before he threw back the covers on the little bed and slipped beneath them, his body still damp beneath the towel. He was shivering again, even though the room AC unit was maintaining the ambient temperature at an entirely comfortable 25 degrees. He turned over onto his side, slipping one hand beneath the pillow under his cheek, and closed his eyes. He tried to relax his jaw. Think of anything, _anything_ other than Poe Dameron. He tried to conjure to mind the hyperspace tracker blueprints he had been working on before the attack, the extremely complex mathematical equation he had been attempting to solve that would explain why the tracker was currently causing ships to overshoot so badly every time they dropped out of lightspeed. Think about _that_ instead. _Not_ Dameron. Not his lips, so full and sensual, not those eyes that seemed to watch you like a hunting animal…those deft hands that could work the controls of an X-Wing so effortlessly, and could surely work many other miracles as well.

Hux clenched his fists and groaned miserably into the pillow as he felt his cock twitch. He just wanted to _sleep_ , needed it so badly, but the hard, aching heat between his legs was never going to allow that unless it was granted relief. It would feel like admitting defeat to his powerful attraction to Dameron, but he had needs like everyone else – now that he thought about it, he hadn’t pleasured himself in several months, and maybe this was the reason his body was aching with such desire. Maybe he just needed relief, release, and then his intense yearning for Dameron’s touch would dissipate.

All right. All _right_. Hux shifted onto his back, his hands moving to untie the towel and pluck it open, using one long, lithe leg to push away the bed covers so that his nakedness was entirely exposed to the room. The vulnerability of it was intoxicating, and his reddened, swollen cock twitched again. It curved upwards towards his belly in its full fruition, its head flushed a rosy pink, and now Hux grasped it almost tentatively with one hand, his other moving to cup and massage his balls. He gasped at his own touch, arching his back a little, lifting his hips to push into his grasp as though his hand was Dameron’s. Kriff, he _wanted_ him, wanted Dameron to touch him, to lap at him, to fuck him – he felt almost dizzy with need, and almost without noticing he began to imagine that Dameron was _there_ , in the room with him, kneeling between Hux’s thighs, watching him with that dark velvety gaze as Hux gasped and quivered beneath him.

Hux closed his eyes, throwing his head back with a moan of longing, letting the fantasy consume him. When Dameron’s hands coasted the insides of his thighs, where the skin was softest and most tender, Hux let him part his legs with only the softest whimper –

– there is the very slight, tacky sound of Dameron’s lips parting, and Hux is only aware that the other man has been wetting his finger when he feels it, carefully, cautiously, probing the tight entrance of Hux’s crease, with the delicacy of a musician tuning a beloved instrument. Hux shudders, gasping, a flex of pleasure so great running through him as he feels Dameron’s finger pass beyond the ring of muscle that his back arches. Helplessly, he moves his hand, reaching for the hardness between his legs, but he feels Dameron’s other hand, gently but firmly, grasping his wrist, pushing him away from his erection. Hux whines in thwarted relief, wanting it to end, and wanting it to carry on forever.

Dameron’s finger is now fully inside him, and Hux feels him crook it backwards towards his pubic bone, the pad of his fingertip pressuring against Hux’s prostate. The little bundle of nerves responds with an intense dart of pleasure, and Hux jerks almost violently, crying out in a high-pitched exclamation that will easily have carried down the hallway outside. Neither of them care.

Very slowly, Dameron kneels upright, between Hux’s legs, keeping himself poised so that he still has purchase as he moves his penetrating finger in a swirling motion, brushing against Hux’s prostate again in a way that makes him gasp and shiver, feeling himself slacken in readiness, his hand almost tingling in his desire to reach between his thighs and cup his aching hardness. For a moment, he thinks Dameron is retracting his finger, but he is merely making room for the second, his index finger sliding back into place now joined with his middle, gently stretching Hux’s loosening entrance. Hux feels his toes curling in an almost agonised suspension of pleasure, arching his back slightly so that he can part his legs wider, opening himself up to Dameron fully.

“Dameron – ” His voice hitches as he breathes his name. “Please…”

He is so hard, so full, so desperately tilted on the edge, that he thinks he might cry or go mad if he isn’t allowed to touch himself. Once again, his hand moves unerringly down across his belly, his fingertips just brushing against his pubic thatch before Dameron stops him again. He moans, a low, plaintive whine at the back of his throat, feeling the first bead of pre-come dripping onto his belly from where his erection is arcing back against it. When Dameron uses his two fingers in a scissoring motion inside him, pressing simultaneously against his prostate, Hux wails and bucks, his vision bleaching out, so sure he has crashed over the edge without even being touched, realising as the constellation of starbursts behind his eyes begins to clear that he is still hanging on, just barely.

He looks waveringly down the length of his body, meeting Dameron’s gaze. The other man is watching him almost impassively, wearing an expression of focused calm as though he is concentrating on a particularly delicate piece of work. But there is something else in his eyes, an intentness, an alert hunger that makes Hux’s skin prickle in response, feeling desired in a way that he has not felt for years – has maybe not felt ever –

By now, Dameron has made room for a third finger, and the feeling of fullness is so exquisite that Hux soon finds himself panting, pushing against Dameron’s penetrating fingers, gasping out incoherent exhortations to ‘Please…please…’ let him come, let him die, oh, stars…

Suddenly, he is aware that Dameron is moving, the fingers of his right hand still buried deep inside Hux, his other hand bracing against Hux’s knee as he ducks low. His fingers are suddenly moving in an intense determined rhythm, brushing against and against Hux’s prostate, and when he takes Hux’s hot, aching, denied length in his mouth, Hux screams, a high-pitched, desperate shriek of pure sensation, his fingers clawing at the bedcovers as Dameron presses his tongue against the underside of his cock, his lips pressuring Hux’s shaft in agonised, wonderfully unbearable friction.

It doesn’t take long. Dameron’s tongue swirls once around the circumference of Hux’s swollen, weeping head, his fingers now focused on that sweet-spot deep inside him, and Hux comes with a series of desperate, panting shrieks, the orgasm so intense it is painful, flashpointing in his groin before rocketing up through his stomach, down through his legs, heat uncurling along his spine, red supernovae dying behind his tightly closed eyelids, his back arching wildly, his hips bucking forward with every last spurt of his ejaculation –

– And all at once, he came back to himself, alone in the grimy little hotel room, hot, sticky come pooling on his stomach as he nursed his cock through the come-down, gently easing out the last sensations of his orgasm as his erection softened, his own breathing loud in his head. His naked body was lightly sheened with sweat, his eyes unfocused, his reddened lips parted as he panted. His entire body sang with sensation, his limbs feeling light and wobbly as calmness swam through him. Gradually, his breathing grew steady, rhythmic, his eyes closing irresistibly; with his body spent, his exhausted mind was finally granted relief, and Hux drifted off into a deep, blissful sleep.


End file.
